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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27697961">Fred's Grave</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veirtyel/pseuds/Veirtyel'>Veirtyel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A Bit of Fluff, Aftermath, Angst, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Fred Weasley's Funeral, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Original Character(s), Post-Second War with Voldemort, eek sorry, fluff??, not too sad I promise just the right amount of sad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 03:29:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,507</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27697961</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veirtyel/pseuds/Veirtyel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>May 2nd, 1998. Fred Weasley is killed at the Battle Of Hogwarts. He leaves behind two loving parents, beloved friends, and six siblings.<br/>Each Weasley cope in their own way. Some manage fine after years, others may live with the guilt of what happened that day for the rest of their lives. After all, he was loved more than anything.<br/>And because of that, Fred's grave will never know loneliness.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Angelina Johnson/George Weasley, Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Charlie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Each chapter will be a different Weasley family member.<br/>I claim nothing, all sadly belongs to J* Ro*ling. We don't support her here. In fact, I believe it was Tom Hanks who wrote Harry Potter? Correct?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>May 7, 1998</p><p>Charlie was the only one who stayed behind at the funeral. George couldn't stand it any longer. Charlie could tell by his labored breaths and silent tears that streamed down his face throughout the painful ceremony. Mum left with him as soon as they could. She clutched onto George as if someone would snatch him from her.</p><p>Percy held an empty stare throughout the funeral, and when he said a few silent words at their brother's grave, he apparated away, sharing nothing with the rest of them. Dad followed him. Charlie told himself he would talk with him later.</p><p>Ron and Ginny left with Hermione and Harry. Ginny was next to her brother, an arm wrapped in his, her head resting on his shoulder. Ginny tried to be strong for Ron, and George, and the rest of them, but Charlie's little sister was hurting. They all were, and it was not her job to be the strong one. And Fuck, was she strong, strongest 16-year-old Charlie knew. However, she was human like the rest of them, and she needed a break.</p><p>From across the wet terrain that was the graveyard, Charlie caught Bill’s eye as Fluer said a silent goodbye at the grave. Bill and Charlie shared the look they have found themselves communicating with each other since they were kids. With a nod and an understanding they would be spending time at the Burrow for a while, he was off with Fleur, following behind their youngest siblings.</p><p>Charlie stayed. </p><p>Some people stayed a little longer as well to say their final farewells. Professor McGonagall stood at the foot of his grave for a while, saying things Charlie figured he'd leave between her and her student. He wasn't surprised she came; in fact, she had attended all of her students' funerals. She must have been exhausted. </p><p>Charlie saw fellow Gryffindors who must have known him during his time at Hogwarts come up to his grave. Some gave Charlie their condolences. Others left in tears.</p><p>Lee, Alicia, and Angelina were last. Charlie gave them their privacy. He figured they'd want to say a final goodbye to their best friend. Lee was on his knees, crying, and Alicia and Angelina put both of their arms around his shoulder, comforting their friend while their silent tears rolled down their faces. </p><p>Charlie remembered Lee and the boys wreaking havoc at school when he was their prefect. He felt about a decade older when dealing with not two but three 11-year-old monsters. He had been desperate to graduate so he wouldn't have to deal with their ridiculous shenanigans. There's nothing Charlie wants more right now than for the three of them to bug him again.</p><p>The three friends left soon after, Angelina sharing a sympathetic look with Charlie as she walked away, holding Alicia and Lee's hands.</p><p>It was appreciated, but he didn't want any sympathetic looks anymore. Charlie had received and given enough in the past week to last him a lifetime.</p><p>Once everyone was gone, he stared across the path towards his brother's grave. <em>His brother's grave.</em></p><p>Charlie knew this war would steal countless innocent lives, as he knew it would also destroy some. As naive as it sounds, he thought his family would be safe, that somehow the love they had for each other would protect them.</p><p>It was a childish thought. Charlie should have known that when it comes to war, no one is exempt.</p><p>Charlie walked up to the grave, his hands buried deep inside his black dress pants' pockets. The grass was mildewy, the dirt still fresh from where they levitated it over his brother's coffin. He stared at the ground where he laid, trying to fathom that only 6 feet under, his brother was there. He was there, but he was gone, and Charlie couldn't do a goddamn thing about it.</p><p>Charlie's eyes finally traced to his gravestone. </p><p>
  <em>Fred Gideon Weasley. Beloved son, friend, and brother. April 1, 1978-May 2, 1998,</em>
</p><p>Twenty years wasn't enough. He deserved more.</p><p>Charlie cried over his body back at Hogwarts; they all had. He wouldn't cry anymore. Charlie had to be there for the family. He'd return to Romania when it was right, but he had to be home right now, helping the Order with settling things after the war. Word was Kingsly would be the new Minister of Magic, McGonnegal would be headmistress at Hogwarts.</p><p>He'd help where he could, maybe assist the Aurors in searching for remaining death eaters, help some kids get settled at Hogwarts over the summer. There were far too many orphans of war now.</p><p>But first, he would help Mum, Dad, George, and the others, as he always had.</p><p>Charlie leaned on a knee in front of his grave, placing my hand on the untouched grass surrounding his little brother.</p><p>"I'll take care of them, Freddie. I promise."</p><p>With that, he pulled himself up, taking one last look at the words etched into the grave. He wanted to stay, but he needed to go home to be with the rest of the remaining Weasley's.</p><p>He wasn’t there to protect Freddie, but he’d be there for the rest of his family.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I figured after the war Charlie and Bill would stick around, helping the family out. I've always enjoyed headcanons about Bill and Charlie basically being parents when Arthur or Molly were busy, so I incorporated it a bit.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Percy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>October 10th, 1998</p><p>Once a month, every month, a man comes to the same grave and stands there for exactly 30 minutes. He doesn't say anything, doesn't move, and if anyone tries to talk to him, he'll ignore them.</p><p>Verity, a young English woman, visits the same graveyard every month at the same time the curly red-head does. </p><p>Verity visits her mother, who had died years prior from a battle with an ailing sickness. She visits the grave like clockwork, usually to change out the flowers and tell her mum she loves her.</p><p>Verity never talked to the man. She'd seen others try, only for him to ignore them, sometimes telling them to go away in a sad, defeated voice. She decided a long time ago to leave that man to his grievances, as she knew he probably preferred to be left alone.. </p><p>As much as she tried not to, every month she left the graveyard she found herself coming up with reasons for the man's presence at the cemetery. In the past year, the cemetery seemed to have obtained many new visitors beyond just the man. </p><p>Perhaps he'd lost a partner? Someone tragically taken from him, someone far too young. Or maybe a grandparent he was close with, or a parent? While young, the man wasn't a child, and Verity knew of the pain of losing a parent.</p><p>That brought her to family. She knew what it was like, to lose family. The way he stood there and held himself was the stance of someone holding back something within. Verity found it was often or not felt when losing family.</p><p>But based on the way the man looked, the pain Verity could see even so far away; she knew whoever died and the circumstances behind it must have been destroying the poor man. His face not only held the emotions of pain and mourning but guilt. Guilt so intense that it seeped out of him and could be felt by a random stranger. She could feel how it plagued him. Verity, despite wishing she could help somehow, knew it was not her place. She'd be surprised if he had no one else, and it's not as if he would even acknowledge her presence.</p><p>So, she kept her distance from the man.</p><p>But on one particular chilly October day, when Verity was walking back to her old, run down car parked outside the graveyard, she heard him.</p><p>He was crying god awful tears that tore Verity's heart into pieces. She paused behind a pair of trees, not wanting to disturb or interrupt the man by making her presence known. The man cried his heart out until he was only breathing heavily, making noises Verity could only compare to that of an animal in pain. She couldn't help but throw a hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her sad noises that threatened to reveal her presence.</p><p>Then he began talking. </p><p>"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry," was how he began. Verity disappointedly found that her suspicion was correct. She hated it.</p><p>"I shouldn't have left you there. I should have protected you. I'm sorry." His final words were quiet, so quiet Verity almost didn't hear it.</p><p>Verity hadn't realized that she was crying until a tear hit her thumb. She took a deep breath to compose herself, wiping at her eyes. Then she heard a sound, a sound she had never heard before. She could only describe it as a loud snap in the wind, followed by a small gust. She looked past the tree to the grave to find the man, but he was gone. Verity's eyes widened at the sudden disappearance. She looked around, wondering where the man must have run off too so quickly, but there was no sign of him. </p><p>Verity soon realized she was at the foot of the grave the very man occupied not moments ago. Verity had avoided it for the purpose of not being disrespectful. She'd been so curious; she thought it rude to see the name of the person who had died only to fulfill her curiosity.</p><p>But now that she was here, she couldn't help herself.</p><p>She walked slightly closer to peer at the name on the gravestone.</p><p>
  <em>Fred Gideon Weasley. Beloved son, friend, and brother. April 1, 1978-May 2, 1998</em>
</p><p>Fred. </p><p>He died not six months ago. He was only twenty. Verity's brother was twenty. With that thought, Verity's breath hitched.</p><p>She was right again. He must have passed tragically, and the man at the grave felt he was at fault.</p><p>Verity thought of her own family and friends and how deeply she loved them. She knew the man loved Fred because whatever their relationship was, it's only when you care about someone deeply can you feel that way.</p><p>Verity left the cemetery with some questions answered and others which she decided would best remain a mystery. October came with chills, and she'd been outside far too long.</p><p>It was all so sad that death was an inevitable part of life, but dying young is always tragic. She wishes she could erase the pain from the man and herself and everyone around her. </p><p>However, Verity knew that life wasn't all bad. Life was beautiful and full of love and magic. It filled her with solace to tell herself that whoever Fred was in life, was and is still loved.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you've read the books you'd know that is was actually Percy who witnessed Fred's death and refused to leave his body until he was forced to. I feel like he would probably live with a lot of guilt of what happened that day. I also had trouble figuring out how to write from Percy's perspective, and what to do for him so I went with an outside perspective instead.<br/>As much hate as Percy gets (which I don't totally disagree with I mean he was government brainwashed oops) I didn't want to write him to be a prick. He was, after all, a Weasley.</p><p>Edit: I am an actual dumbass. The dumbass behavior I exhibited is truly astonishing. The dumbass just jumped out. I didn't post the whole story when I first posted this. I left out 4 paragraphs at the end. <em>Four</em>. N-E-Ways...I edited it and added the last paragraphs. Excuse my dumbassery.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Ron</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>December 25th, 1998</p><p>It was the first Christmas without Fred. When Ron woke up that morning, he was already feeling dreadful. Everything downstairs had been put up; the tree, the gifts, even the table was set decoratively. The atmosphere didn't match it at all. Mum was up, and she greeted Ron with a sad smile and a hug that lasted longer than usual. </p><p>Hermione was with her family that day, of course, so Ron wouldn't see her until after new years. Harry decided to spend the holiday at Hogwarts on a visit, spending some time with the kids who didn't couldn't go home during the holiday. It made sense to Ron. Harry always said Hogwarts was his home.</p><p>Mum was pretty happy. For the first time in years, all her kids were spending Christmas at her house. Almost all of them.</p><p>The gift exchange occurred during the afternoon this year. Dad and Percey both had to work in the evening, and Bill and Fleur promised her parents they would pay a visit.</p><p>For Dad, Ron and Ginny joined forces to get him something Harry and Hermione called a walkman? A muggle device that played music through something called a headphone? Ron would never understand muggles and their need to name things after human anatomy. </p><p>Dad, however, loved it. Ron knew he would never actually use it for music, as Ron had been doing. Instead, he'd pick it apart and tamper with it. Ron, nor Ginny, cared all that much. The smile on his face and George's when he watched his dad examine the muggle invention was well worth it.</p><p>The Weasley brothers all banded together to get Ginny a brand new broom this year. </p><p> "For when you get recruited for whatever Professional Quidditch team is lucky enough to have you," said Charlie, wiggling his eyebrows. Ginny hugged all her brothers tightly. Ron noticed she lingered in George's arms a little longer than the others and smiled when he whispered something in her ear. </p><p>More gifts were passed around that day, laughs shared, and smiles passed around. Ron found himself enjoying the holiday, even if a vital part of it was still missing.</p><p>Then the jumpers were passed around. Mum decided to wrap a bow around each folded jumper this year since it would be a surprise to no one when they received it. Once Mum passed around the gifts, Ginny immediately put the jumper over her head and pulled it down over her torso. She held up her hand, and comically, the sleeves were about five inches too long, and the jumper hung off her like a blanket.</p><p>"Um, Mum?" The family turned their attention to George, who had also put on his jumper. The thing was, half his midriff was showing, and the sleeves didn't make it past his wrists. "I <em>may</em> be wrong, however, I think you gave me Ginny's jumper." </p><p>He grinned. </p><p>"Honestly woman, and you call yourself our mother?"</p><p>Mum was silenced. No one said anything as George repeated the phrase he and Fred had repeated so often before to get under their mum's skin. Ron stared at George, then the rest of his family, wondering when the silence would end, hoping soon.</p><p>Suddenly a laugh. It started small but turned into tearful giggles. Percy took off his glasses and wiped at his eyes as he simultaneously grabbed at his stomach while he belly laughed. Ginny joined in as her smile widened, then Charlie, and soon all the Weasleys were in a fit of hysterics as George got up, flipped imaginary long hair, and blew a kiss towards Ginny.</p><p>"You prat! Give me my jumper!" exclaimed Ginny through laughs.</p><p>"Nah, it emphasizes my happy trail," replied George.</p><p>"You're-" started Charlie, but with that comment, he began wheezing with laughter again, and Ron worried he'd stop breathing.</p><p>-</p><p>"Even Mum couldn't stop laughing! I can't believe she didn't yell at George for stretching Ginny's jumper!"</p><p>Ron smiled as he finished telling the story to Fred. Fred, while not responding, was sure to have a good laugh. </p><p>Ron fiddled with the jumper in his hands. He's not sure why he brought it today, but it didn't feel right to have it sit in the closet where Mum didn't think anyone would find it. </p><p>The giant "F" on the newly printed sweater confused Ron at first, but then he realized the colors matched the one George got for Christmas this year. Without thinking, he'd grabbed it and later came up with an excuse to leave the Burrow. He'd headed straight to the cemetery.</p><p>That brought him to the foot of his brother's grave, Fred's Christmas present in hand. He stood there in awkward silence, contemplating whether he should head back. This was stupid. It's not as if Fred knew he was standing there, but then again, he couldn't be sure.</p><p>Ginny said talking helps. Ron wondered if this is what she did each week she was here, talking to Fred. Ron thought it was a bit silly at first, but now that he was here telling the story of the Christmas gift mishap of 1998, he wasn't sure.</p><p>Ron cleared his throat. "Well, um, Mum made this for you. She doesn't know I know of course, but I didn't want it collecting dust in the closet or anything. Didn't feel right."</p><p>Ron chuckled, shuffling his feet a bit. </p><p>"Christmas wasn't all bad. It's not the same, of course! We miss you so much. George misses you."</p><p>George, out of them all, had handled everything the worse. As expected, he was distant at first. Quiet, he barely left Ron's room (He refused to sleep in his and Fred's old room), and often, Ron heard wines and cries during the night through the walls. Usually, it was Mum who woke him up from a nightmare. It was always Mum, not just with George. Sometimes Rom would leave his room to go to George to find Ginny already opening George's door. She gives him a silent nod and a sad smile as if saying I got this. Besides Mum, Ginny was the one who comforted her brothers.</p><p>Ron sighed at the memories of the days, weeks, months after the battle. Constant funerals and changes in the whole wizarding world.</p><p>He clutched the jumper in his hands, running a thumb across the neatly knitted" F."</p><p>"I'm not so sure it's healthy for Mum to be doing this. You'd probably call her loony, then she'd probably slap you silly," Ron chuckled.</p><p>No response.</p><p>Ron sighed again, thinking about how he was talking to a headstone with his brother's name on it. However, he had to admit; he felt like coming here made a little more sense now. The weight of the jumper in his hand seemed a little less, and the holiday felt a little more cheerful, knowing Fred may now know Mum and the others haven't forgotten him on this day.</p><p>"Happy Christmas, Fred."</p><p>Ron looked down at the stone, reading his name etched into the granite. He gave the jumper one final squeeze and dropped it to his side. He began walking away, thinking about how he'd come with Ginny the next time she visited. While he was walking away, he suddenly stopped and turned and jogged back to Fred. He had one more thing to say.</p><p>"By the way, I still think you are a git for it, but I forgive you."</p><p>He imagined Fred would be raising his eyebrows in confusion.</p><p> <em>For what? </em></p><p>"For turning my toy into a spider." Ron smiled. "I forgive you, Fred. Happy Christmas."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the first Christmas without Fred :(. I like to think they spent the holiday missing him, but enjoying it nonetheless. So I added some happy times in this story. The next chapter will will go back to sad times. Sorry.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Bill</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>April 1st, 1999</p><p>Bill and Fleur were sleeping in their bed when a snapping-sound followed by a small crash woke them at midnight. The sound was undeniable, someone had apparated into their home. Bill immediately drew his wand, and so had Fleur. Both wizard and witch walked downstairs, weary of all surroundings. Last year they learned to be careful and defensive at all times, and that mindset had yet to leave the couple. </p><p>But as Bill walked downstairs, he saw a head of red hair sitting on one of their kitchen table chairs, head in hands as his shoulders heaved up and down. When his younger brother looked up, his eyes were red and puffy with tears. Bill knew immediately what was wrong.</p><p>It was George’s birthday.</p><p>"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just didn't know where to go, and I didn't want to scare mum and-"</p><p>"It's okay, George, it's okay, I got you."</p><p>Bill had wrapped his arms around his brother as George clutched the back of his shirt. He made no noise except for his heaving breaths as he let out whatever he had bottled up inside into Bill's shoulder. Bill motioned for Fleur to call for his mother. Even if George thought he would be a nuisance, Bill knew there was nothing any of them could do to disturb their mother, especially on this day. </p><p>No one talked about it. Mum had tried to get George to even acknowledge it, but he avoided the topic of his birthday like the plague.</p><p>Bill had wondered if George would ignore the rest of the family on the 1st, then pop up on the 2nd as if nothing was wrong, acting his usual self. </p><p>It's almost been a year, and while the pain of their brothers' loss still lingered in all of them, they were getting better. George moved out of the burrow to go live above the flat in his shop a couple of months ago, and he seemed okay. He joked, he teased Percy, he bugged Ron and drove Mum up the wall. In all, he had appeared well.</p><p>But as Bill held his sobbing brother that day at midnight, when no one was up, he realized that just wasn't the case.</p><p>He brought him to the burrow, where Mum and Dad took him. No one else was home, so Bill and Fleur stayed a bit that day, hoping to help George. There was no use; he immediately retreated to Ron's old room and stayed there the rest of the day. No one said happy birthday; no gifts, cakes, or congratulations were given.</p><p>Bill hated it.</p><p>Birthdays were for celebration, for living another year, and that's a miracle in this world. </p><p>He understood if George couldn't, though. For the rest of his life, he will share his birthday with his dead twin, and Bill couldn't even imagine what that was like.</p><p>So he didn't know his exact reason for visiting his grave that day, but he felt like he should have.</p><p>"Hey, Fred," he said quietly, so almost he didn't hear himself say it. "It's been a day."</p><p>Bill wasn't sure if anyone else had visited. Ginny was at school, and the others were busy with their jobs, so as far as he knew, he was the only Weasley here this day.</p><p>The flowers, Bill noticed, were starting to get old and decaying. He picked them up and charmed a new bouquet to form itself right under the carving on the stone.</p><p>
  <em>April 1st, 1978-May 2nd, 1998</em>
</p><p>Bill thought back to that day. The battle was intense. He recalls seeing students, children dying right in front of him, and then that feeling in his gut that hit him hard. It wasn't the first death he'd seen. He'd run around Hogwarts that day, protecting his wife, Ginny, Mum and Dad, and all his little brothers.</p><p>That was his job, after all. To protect and be there for his family. He thought maybe that's why George came to him of all people, and why immediately he knew what to do.</p><p>He couldn't help Fred. He knew it wasn't his fault, but he wasn't there for his younger brother when he would have needed him most.</p><p>Bill hitched a breath, willing himself to keep some composure. He'd cried enough over everything, not just Fred.</p><p>They had just turned twenty a month prior. He was practically a teenager when he died. He deserved more years than he was given. They all deserved more years with him.</p><p>Bill sighed deeply. He was here for a reason.</p><p>"I'll visit more often. I promise"</p><p>He walked up closer to the granite, placing a palm stone that was cold to the touch.</p><p>"Happy Birthday, Freddie."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Ginny</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>X, if you're reading this go away.<br/>jk ily</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>July 20th, 1999</p>
<p>"I have some good news, Fred," Ginny said as she sat in front of the headstone, messing with the sleeves of her jumper. "I was recruited by the Holyhead Harpies. I'm gonna be a professional quidditch player like you said I would."</p>
<p>Ginny paused as if waiting for Fred to answer. She knew he wouldn't, but she liked to think he was saying something to her from wherever he was. <em>I knew you would! Do me a favor and rub it in Charlie's face, yeah?</em> </p>
<p>She smiled as she sat cross-legged across his grave. She was ecstatic, and she had been so excited to tell all her brothers. Charlie hugged and spun her. Percy, professional as always, congratulated her with a handshake (which she turned into a hug, of course). She used one of Harry's muggle phones to tell Hermione and Ron, and Bill had apparated to congratulate her in person. George had whooped and celebrated with a fireworks show in the Burrow's backyard with Angelina and Harry watching as two Weasley's almost set themselves on fire. </p>
<p>She was so happy, but there had been one more brother she had to tell.</p>
<p>"I met the whole team and they're all amazing players," Ginny continued, picking at a string on her jumper sleeve.</p>
<p>"Our seeker is faster than lightning, and our two other chasers remind me of Alicia and Angelina. Our keeper was a bit of a tossar at first, but he stopped being a dick when I almost knocked him off his broom when I hit him in the chest with the quaffle."</p>
<p>She paused again, knowing Fred would have laughed and rubbed her head. <em>That's my sister!</em></p>
<p>Ginny suddenly stopped messing with her sleeves.</p>
<p>"Our beaters are good too." Her voice quietened. "They promised they'd protect me from any rouge bludgers, but they will never live up to you and George."</p>
<p>She paused again, but not because she was waiting for Fred to say something. She couldn't seem to find the right words. </p>
<p>"George is doing better. He makes jokes, and he went back to live at the joke shop a couple months ago. I tried to convince him to come with me today, but..."</p>
<p>She paused again. She and Mum have tried again and again to get George to come with them. At first, he refused outright. Eventually, it turned into "I'm busy" or "I'll go next time." She couldn't understand why he refused to visit their brother when they all had. Then again, she also couldn't understand what it's like to lose someone as close to you as they were. She felt guilty when she thought that she shouldn't be angry at George for grieving the way he did, but they all lost their brother, not just George.</p>
<p>It's something she'd never figure out the right answer to, so she did the best thing she could to feel better; talk to her brother.</p>
<p>Ginny cleared her throat as if she was changing the subject with someone in front of you.</p>
<p>"Anyway, Percy has been working at the Ministry again, but don't worry, he's not a specky git about it. George made sure he wouldn't, you'd be proud."</p>
<p>Ginny smiled at the memory of George joking about how he'd blow off Percy's ear and use it as a prosthetic if he went back to his old ways. Mum had slapped him, telling him not to threaten to blow his ear off. It was at a family dinner, and it had felt almost normal. George had paused now and then as if he was waiting for someone to finish his sentence, but he always caught himself and acted as if it didn't happen. Ginny always noticed, though.</p>
<p>"Oh! I don't know if anyone has told you yet, but George is dating Angelina now."</p>
<p>Ginny paused.</p>
<p>
  <em>That git! He asked out my Yule Ball date!</em>
</p>
<p>Ginny couldn't help but laugh. "She comes to the Burrow with him now, I love having her around again. I don't think you or George knew this but when you and George would bring Lee or Angelina over during the summers, Mum, Ron and I always bet that she'd end up with one of you. Sorry to say I always had my money on George."</p>
<p>
  <em>My own sister, so little faith in my seduction skills.</em>
</p>
<p>Ginny laughed wholeheartedly. She didn't find visiting Fred painful like Percy did. She didn't do it every other month like Bill did, and she surely didn't avoid it altogether, like George did. It hurt more at night, when she was alone with her thoughts, or when she heard the beaters on her team say the same things Fred would. She used to climb into bed with George in the beginning. She'd let him hold her while they both cried, staying the night and waking up on a bed far too small for two. It helped her, though, and she believed at the time, it helped her brother too.</p>
<p>She sat up and walked up to Fred's headstone. She kissed her two fingers and placed them on the granite. </p>
<p>"I'll see you next week. I love you, Fred."</p>
<p>Ginny slipped her fingers off the stone and tightened her jumper around herself. It was far too big for her, and the F on the front often confused people who met her, but she didn't care. She walked away, smiling. She always enjoyed her talks with her brother.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was definitely my favorite chapter to write. A little happier, too :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Molly</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>May 2nd, 2000</p>
<p>Molly visited every year. That’s all she could handle. Looking down at the grave did not help her, but was only a reminder. She could never forget, she refused, which is why she came every year on the anniversary, so she would be reminded.</p>
<p>Molly protected her children. That was her job as a mother. It makes sense her worst fear is her family dying, so when her son, her baby, died, she didn’t break. She refused.</p>
<p>Molly is strong. Molly, despite losing her son, would stand up tall and with the strength of the most powerful thing in the world; a mother who loved her children.</p>
<p>Molly cried. She cried more tears than she ever had in her life. She can only equate it to when her brothers, Fabien and Gideon died. The very men she named her twin boys after. Molly latched onto George, out of motherly protection, but also out of fear that somehow the world would take him away too. She would destroy the world before it got the chance.</p>
<p>On the anniversary of that horrible day, she always visited because she needed to be reminded why she would never let her family down, that she would never lose them and let them leave the earth before she did. She believes this thought began when Bellatrix almost took her youngest away from her.</p>
<p>Then a miracle happened on May 2nd, 2000.</p>
<p>Bill had contacted her in a frenzy, through his patronouse. The message appeared in her kitchen, with George, Ron, Hermione and Author all in the room.</p>
<p>Fleaur had gone into labor.</p>
<p>The Weasleys all apparated immediately to Bill’s home, where her son looked disheveled and frantic as he threw open the door to his bedroom, where inside, his wife could be heard throwing random curses around in French at nothing in particular.. </p>
<p>To everyone’s surprise, Molly pushed past her son and immediately went to Fleaur’s side, taking her hand in hers, rubbing her sweaty forehead from wear she laid on their bed.</p>
<p>“It hurts!” she screamed. She cried, she was scared. “My baby! I can’t, it hurts!”</p>
<p>“I know, I know love, but it will be over soon.” Molly soothed</p>
<p>Fleur continued to fanctically nod her head while muttering no no no. Molly knew the feeling, she’d felt it right before giving birth to Bill. Fleaur was terrified about being a mother, about her child, about failing them before they were even born. </p>
<p>“Fleur! Look at me!” Molly urged. Fleur’s terrified eyes met Molly’s, her knuckles almost white as she squeezed. “I promise, when it’s over, this will feel like nothing, this baby will be your life and you will never let them down. Your baby will be here, on this Earth, and that’s all that will matter.” </p>
<p>Fleur was still breathing heavily, frantically, but she nodded, squeezing onto Molly's hand a little tighter. She needed strength, and Molly would be that source. One mother to another.</p>
<p>Hermione, bless her heart, took lead. The boy’s stood around, Author standing next to his oldest in the room, George and Ron nervously pacing.</p>
<p>Then she was born. A beautiful baby, with a tuft of blond hair on her head and beautiful blue eyes that matched her father’s. Fleur, exhausted, shared a silent look with Molly. She nodded in thanks as she handed her baby girl over. Bill, now by her side, cried slightly at the sight of his daughter. She was gorgeous, even for a baby.</p>
<p>“What will you name her?” asked Ron, who stood with an arm around Hermione as she leaned into him, a huge smile across her face.</p>
<p>“Well, we had a name picked out, but it doesn’t seem right. Not today,” replied Bill. He sat on the bed, moving his wife’s hair from her forehead.</p>
<p>“How about Victorie. French for Victory,” piped up Fleur, who’s eyes had yet to leave her child’s face.</p>
<p>The room, despite there being no vocal affirmation, all agreed.</p>
<p>“It’s perfect,” said George. Molly looked to her son and saw a tear roll down his face. Usually, she would be worried, but Molly saw it was the first time her son had cried of happiness in almost two years. </p>
<p>Suddenly, that day didn’t seem too horrible. This baby was proof of light in the dark. Victorie.</p>
<p>Molly visited every year. She did it out of love for her son, to celebrate his life and her first grandchild. She did it to remember him in a positive light. She was a mother, but also a grandmother who would spoil them rotten and knit them sweaters. She’s never done a V before.</p>
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